Living in Close Quarters
Four or five years ago my wife and I moved from Huntington Beach, California so that we could give our full attention to the ministry and cut out my weekly flights. We moved into an old industrial building renovated into lofts in downtown Salt Lake City and settled into 450 square feet of concrete bliss. Needless to say, in such a setting your immediate neighbors and their ways become impossible to avoid. And right next door to us was a young bachelor whom I will call Al. He was tall, athletically built, and handsome but we noticed that he had a very hard time speaking to us. He had an attractive live-in girlfriend who was more friendly, but from the start, this man in his late twenties was indifferent to conversation, abrupt, and in time these characteristics grew into straight-up rudeness.
I am personally sensitive to rebuffs and rejections from people who have no reason to act that way and I started to really dislike Al. Every time I would see him, though, I would automatically say hello, and then walk away furious that he would rarely even respond – even with a grunt. Add in the fact that he had a lot of shady characters come in and out of his place at all hours and that they were often loud and sometimes they smoked cigarettes inside (which is prohibited) and after a year or two all I can say is I found myself gunning for him, hoping that he would cross my path someday out on the street and in the wrong way, giving me a reason to bring him down a notch.
The Downward Spiral
Time went by. He became more irresponsible, leaving his car parked on the street for over a year and causing the city to install a meter where there was none before. I was furious with the guy. He went away leaving his girlfriend in the place, and then she disappeared too. He returned and we could see that he had changed, that drug abuse had begun to take a toll on his skin and body. We watched and listened as a parade of other drug abusers came and went into his place. And as the ravages of this lifestyle began to take more of a toll, we had to call the police several times on Al as his life spiraled out of control on a few occasions, causing women to be screaming for their life in the halls or with him lying in the bathroom pounding on a shared wall for hours in a drug-induced daze. My heart was filled with anger, disgust, judgment, and even violence toward him.
Then one day about six months ago we got into the same elevator. This had happened before and he was always rude but something said, “reach out in love.” So I said, “So, what drug is it? Meth?” Through pale-pocked skin and sunken eyes, he said, “Opioids.” I said, “I don’t know where you are in your mind toward spiritual things but I pastor a church and you are always welcome.” Surprisingly, he actually showed some real interest and asked about the time and day that we meet, which I gave him.
A Change of Heart
Later that night I wrote out on a piece of paper the name and time of our gatherings and drew a map for directions. I added that there was no pressure, but if he was ever interested or looking, he was welcome. In reaching out my heart toward him changed – almost immediately. Instead of seeing him as a failure, a loser, a drug-addicted scum, I began to see him as a human being in a trap, imprisoned, and more than worthy and needing Jesus to emancipate him from his chains. And we began to take a Christian interest in him instead of a resident interest in him.
Months went by, and Al would show up out of nowhere in the car park or elevator and we would chat openly – with me just asking how he was doing and him typically high trying to respond. And he disappeared – again. Last week a neighbor told us that he died. And we were greatly saddened by this news, and somewhat confronted by the fact that we wasted an awful lot of time angry at him rather than trying to reach him in love. Friday morning I left our place and passed by an open door to his apartment. Inside a woman I had never seen.
A Mother's Pain and a Preacher's Revelation
I looked in and said, “Hello.” She stopped, stepped down a rung on the ladder and said straight up: “Are you the preacher?” “I am,” I replied. “I’m Al’s mom. He has passed away. Thank you for reaching out to him.” I was stunned she even knew of the meager attempts I made to reach Al and that Al must have mentioned it to her. She said that he was a good man – a good son, but that some two or three years earlier he got addicted to drugs. She said that he was in the process of trying to kick them, and was staying at her house to do it. She said he had joined a gym, was really making progress, then decided to make a visit back – and that he appears to have od or gotten a bad batch from somewhere. Through tears she said, “I tried to do CPR on him but . . . “ and the pain of a mother who had lost her son overcame her.
Reflections on Judgment and Compassion
I realized somethings at that moment. I realized that I was walking around judging and condemning a man who had potential, who was loved, who had a mother and father and family. I realized that I chose to size him up a loser and failure rather than to see him for what he really was – a person in bondage – simple as that. Since then I have wondered about the human condition. About people we call losers, and bums, and trash. How so many people are taken captive by the dark in this world and overcome, but how ALL have been to some extent or another, been imprisoned as well. Myself included.
The Importance of Empathy and Patience
I revisited what God did for this world through His Son – had the victory over sin, death and the grave, and how Al was from what I could tell, experiencing relief in his passing rather than more pain and suffering from the hands of an angry God. More than this, I realized how vitally important it is – at least to me – to refrain from making immediate, knee-jerk assessments of people around me – and to try and see all people as suffering, as subject to broken operating systems, as having people, as bad and failing as they may appear, who love them – especially God. And that in His name and cause, and by His strength and mercy, I might more immediately extend more patience, longsuffering, kindness, forgiveness and love to any and all, and not just those who appear to have it all together in life. Thank you, Al. Another hard lesson learned.
